


Terrible idea

by alienmagic



Series: Terrible idea [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Consent Issues, Hurt No Comfort, Lots of it., M/M, Punishing through sex., Rough Sex, Sherlock´s very bad first time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-09-16 20:22:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9288188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alienmagic/pseuds/alienmagic
Summary: Sherlock is devastated after Mary dies and tries his best to save his relationship with John.Which ends terribly.Takes place at the end of the first episode of series four.After Sherlock´s visit to Ella but before he discovers the disc from Mary.





	

**Author's Note:**

> The idea has been nagging at my brain immediately after I saw the first episode, but it became truly necessary to write this after I saw the second one and realised it really somehow fits. If you’re into such dark things.  
> Because the way John beats Sherlock in second episode is exactly the second step to what he’s doing in this story, where he can’t even say anything yet. So he drinks and brings it out to Sherlock who is as always stupid enough to stand in harm´s way.
> 
> Trigger warning: almost consensual rape (if it gets any meaning written like this). Self punishing through sex. And the like.

It was past midnight when Sherlock decided he couldn´t cope any longer. It was visiting John again or having something injected and John wouldn´t aprove. If he cared of course, but Sherlock needed to pretend he would. 

He rang John’s door about half past one. The light was on in the living room. John was up, which meant nothing these days. John couldn´t sleep at all, Sherlock noticed the last time they saw each other. Right before John threw him out the door.

 

Sherlock took a deep breath. He really wasn´t so sure about this, but his other plans was all even worse and he simply didn´t have better solution. He needed to fix things between them. He couldn’t leave John alone and definitely couldn’t stay alone himself. 

So he fortified himself the best he could and rang the bell.

Nothing happend. No slow steps, no calling out “Who´s that?” Sherlock briefly considered to ring again, but then John probably wouldn´t come anyway. The lock on the door wasn´t difficult one, John kept insisting it´s fine even if Sherlock had been pointing out all possible complications stemming from insufficiently secured door. Now it came handy.

 

John was indeed in the living room, sitting on the sofa, glass in one hand, bottle on the floor within reach. Only half full, but he didn´t look too drunk. His endurance increased, it was obvious he drank a lot more. Bottle had different label then before, also got in sale. 

Rosie left with Molly again. No wonder why.

 

John didn´t move when he noticed Sherlock entering the room, only his eyes hardened when he saw him.

Sherlock suddenly felt he just misstepped some other boundary which was not to be misstepped. But taking it somehow back wasn´t a possibility, so he pushed through sudden rush of self-consciousness and bore John´s steel look, trying and failing not to let it cut into him too much.

The quiet stretched ad infinitum. It seemed the sun must come out at any moment. Finally John raised the glass and drank a sip. Still without a word, but the spell was broken. Fortunately, otherwise Sherlock wouldn´t be able to move or speak, hypnotized by John´s hollow cutting eyes. 

Now or never.

“You…” Sherlock cleared his throat, “...didn´t answer your phone...”

“And it was perfectly acceptable for you just drop in in the middle of the night.” Finished John in that formerly crisp manner of his, but it was all wrong. The light smile usually accompanying this sort of statements was gone and his voice was hollow as his eyes. He slowly drank the rest of the glass and filled it from the bottle. Almost to the brim. He didn’t look up anymore.

“I don’t want you here, Sherlock.”

Sherlock´s heart sank a bit lower. “I... “ He felt stupid. Didn´t really know what to say, just felt the urge to fill the void until everything miraculously repaired itself. To offer comfort and help and anything John could possibly need.

He didn´t dare to look too closely if he believed the repair possible, but he fiercely hoped in some wonderful accident which would tilt the course of events in his favour.

“I wanted…” he continued and stammered a bit. John smirked. Sherlock took a deep breath. “Needed to see… If you´re all right.. I…obviously I know you aren´t, I.. I ment…”

“Get out Sherlock.” Interrupted John, still not looking at him.

“John, please, just hear…”

“No. I don´t want you here, I don’t want to listen to you. In fact, I don´t want you anywhere near me in the foreseeable future, have I made myself clear?” Still in that impassive voice, but there was something seething just below the surface, Sherlock could tell. If he could just take it out, maybe John would feel better. Wasn´t that something Ella suggested?

 

He tried again. “John, it is important that you know…”

“Have I made myself clear?” Repeated John and the blade underneath took tangible form. 

“John, please, I just…”

“For fuck´s sake!” Yelled John suddenly and sprung to his feet. Angry and dangerous with eyes flashing and restraints lowered by alcohol. Sherlock managed not to flinch too hard but still gave himself away with wide eyes and loud gasp. This kind of anger he saw only few times after his return and he learned to recognize it as a warning. If you don´t want to get hurt, don´t move, don´t talk, don´t breathe and stay still until it disappears. But he couldn´t do that this time. John would come back to his controlled self and cast him away. And Sherlock just couldn´t let that happen again.

“Get out!” Yelled John. “What part of it don´t you understand?”

“John, if you´d just let me…”

“My God why is it so difficult to get rid of you? Are you still so full of yourself that you don´t understand someone´s just finished with you? I have finished with you Sherlock! For good!”

Sherlock´s eyes widened at that and he felt his mouth opening and closing. He couldn´t quite catch with the meaning of the words. Even if John´s actions lately screamed it to him fairly loud, hearing it was different matter entirely.

“John, please…” he whispered.

“Fuck you!”

“If it helps…”

“What?”

“You can, if it helps…”

“You mean…?” It was John´s turn to gape at him.

“Yes.”

“God you really don´t have any boundaries whatsoever, have you?”

“No. Well I do have some, but when it´s you they all tend to blur. And it may help you. You.. didn´t have any sex for a long time and… and...” Sherlock couldn´t quite finish the thought and he knew he was rambling. This was not the plan. This was some kind of contorted nightmare and Sherlock had no idea how to wake up. So he did the only one thing he could think about. Go with the flow. Fake confidence. Don´t let John see he has no idea what he is doing. 

He drew himself to his full height and met John´s eyes.

 

John slowly drank his glass. All of it, eyes fixated on Sherlock, who didn´t dare to breath. “You are damaged, you know that, right?” Said he when he finished, but now there was something new in his voice. Something dark and lurking. Waiting to pounce.

“So are you.” Countered Sherlock, but couldn´t quite suppress a shudder in his voice.

John noticed and smiled. But this wasn´t John´s smile. This was the most terrible smile Sherlock had ever seen. It was evil and twisted and frightening. 

Suddenly there wasn´t enough air in the room or so it seemed.  _ Never provoke a predator in his own environment. _ Said some voice in Sherlock´s head, possibly something picked up from the telly. He couldn´t agree more, but it was too late to do anything so he just stood there, trapped in John´s not-quite-smile. Awaiting his fate.

 

“Undress.” The order came in entirely new voice. Cold and cutting.

It took a while to process what John was saying, what he was agreeing to do. When Sherlock began to unbutton his shirt, he noticed his fingers are shaking. 

John saw it too. “If we were in one of our usual rows I´d tell you to stop and go home now. But we´re done with the usual aren´t we? We are done Sherlock, so it really doesn´t matter what we´re going to do.”

Sherlock took another deep breath. He didn´t want to undress in front of angry drunken John, but he didn´t see any other way out of it. If he went away, John probably wouldn´t stop him and even if he tried, Sherlock would have good chance to successfully defend himself. 

But what then? They would stop seeing and stop talking for good. John said he was finished with him. If he left now, he wouldn´t get another chance to repair their friendship. All people used sex quite successfully to establish positive emotions and create good relationships. It couldn´t be that difficult. Therefore if his last chance was let himself be fucked for the first time in his life by angry John, so be it. 

Now both his hands were shaking. Sherlock was frightened. He didn´t know what John would do with him, but kept hearing  _ for the first time be gentle, it might hurt otherwise. _ For some reason it was his mothers voice, which made things even more terrible.

He managed to untangle himself from his shirt, toed off the shoes. Then he stopped for a while and dared to look at John, who just watched him with dark eyes. Sherlock slowly undone his zipper, shimmied out of trousers and pulled off the socks. Then he stood still, trembling.

“All of it.” Another command. Expected. 

Sherlock suddenly found he wished John would stop this right here and let him go home. Pretend this didn´t happen. It also occured to him he could just walk away, but how could he deny John anything, after what he´d done? 

Slowly he pulled his boxers down and bared himself. He stepped out of them. And then made himself meet John´s eyes again.

They scared him, but not with what he saw in them. It was the missing pieces that scared him. All the good things essentially connected with John disappeared. The warmth, the concern, the love he was used to see there were all gone. This were strangers eyes. Cold and dark.

 

John slowly stood and flexed fingers of his left hand. 

“Bend over chair.” He pointed at the blue one. “I´ll go find some condoms.”

“Condoms?” Sherlock couldn´t stop himself. “You and Mary didn´t use them, how would you… oh…” Suddenly the dark side of John was much more pronounced.

“Yes, oh.” Huffed John ghost of an empty smile and stalked away.

He was gone only few seconds.

“I said bend over a chair.” Another command, still cold as ice.

It can´t hold, he will realize what we´re doing and the caring John will come back. Reasoned Sherlock with himself to persuade himself to do what John wanted.

Awkwardly he lowered himself over the chair. It was a bit small for him. His limbs were too long and he felt wrong.

John stood behind him. “Spread your legs.” Another order. 

Sherlock did as was told and immediately felt cold strangely coated finger pushing against his perineum. Condom over finger. No extra lube.

It took all of his reserves to stay bent over the chair and not run for the doors.

“John…” he whispered.

“Shut up.”

He shut up.

 

The breach hurt. A lot. John wasn´t gentle at all. He wasn´t even caring in the way doctor would be if performing this kind of examination.

Sherlock gasped and flinched, but John held his hips with his right hand, left relentlessly pushing in. He was only first knuckle in but it burned and the stretch was already too much. Sherlock never noticed him to have such long fingers. 

When the first finger was in all the way, John withdraw it and before Sherlock could steel himself a bit returned with two. In the same forceful way.

“John…” moaned Sherlock, “slow down, it hurts.”

“Good.” Was the only warning he got before John plunged two fingers all the way up his arse.

Sherlock cried and tried to flinch away, but John was prepared. He twisted Sherlock´s hand behind his back and held him in place.

Sherlock gasped open mouthed, loud breaths and painful sighs. His arse was in fire and John was withdrawing his fingers again.

“John, please…” 

The only answer was tightening the twist of his hand so his shoulder was dangerously close to dislocating. Sherlock bit his lip to prevent other sounds, but they kept escaping.

Three fingers. Sherlock sobbed with pain. Everything was focused on John´s fingers in his arse and blinding pain. He couldn´t take it, he needed to get out. He thrashed and his shoulder clicked. He yelled. Did it just dislocate? John kept pushing in. The pain. White searing pain.

“John!” panted Sherlock. “Stop! I can´t....” His voice broke.

John didn´t stop. He stretched him mercilessly until Sherlock´s eyes were full of tears. Then he withdrew and let go of Sherlock´s arm.

 

“You have the chance to get out now.” John´s voice was so gruff Sherlock almost didn´t recognize it. “You don´t deserve it, but I´ll give it to you anyway. Even if your pain will fade and mine will stay with me forever. Thanks to you.”

Sherlock laid bent over the chair without moving, blinking away the tears. He didn´t dare to move, trying to frantically calculate benefits of staying and letting himself be fucked against benefits of leaving and letting things with John be raw and unfinished. Or finished forever, it depended on the point of view. There were so many variables and so little time and for some reason he wasn´t able to focus properly. 

“I´m going to fuck you hard Sherlock, so if you´re not up to it, get out. Don´t say I didn´t warn you.” Sherlock heard the foil be ripped and felt John moving while rolling another condom on. He wanted to ask John for more time to think, but couldn´t find the right words. He was petrified with fear that John will finish with him and that will be the end of them.  _ I must try to save what we have. I must... _

“No? Very well then.”

John lined himself up and without other warning pushed in. Sherlock scrambled forward, but the chair didn´t let him. John grabbed a handfull of his hair and yanked his head backward. “You had your chance.” He hissed into Sherlocks ear and began to thrust. The pain exceeded everything that came before.

Sherlock tried to plead, to cry, but John held his head in such an angle which made it difficult to speak. He was only able to gasp and whine and sob. He tried to count the thrusts to maintain the feeble rest of his mental faculties but when he realized they weren´t even at ten and the pain was literally unbearable, he threw away all pretence and began to fight.

It was lost cause. Impaled on John´s cock, with no balance and John holding his head in frankly alarming angle he didn´t stand a chance.

Finally he relented and let himself be used as John pleased while tears streamed from his eyes.

 

After what felt like eternity John began to slam into him even more forcefully. His grip in Sherlock´s hair tightened and he came with something dangerously reminding sobs.

He immediately let go of Sherlock´s hair, pulled himself out and stepped away. Sherlock heard him fasten the trousers and pick the bottle. Drinking right from it.

Everything hurt. His arse and hair and shoulder were on fire. He was certain he´ll have bruises on his hips from John´s fingers and the way he hit the back of the chair when John slammed into him. But most of it all hurt something deep in his chest. Something Sherlock didn´t dare to look at too closely.

He slowly got up and tried to face John, but John was turned away, his face in one hand, bottle in other. 

“John…” whispered Sherlock and gently touched his shoulder. 

John recoiled like hit by electricity. 

“Get out.” he croaked.

Sherlock felt the words seep through his entire being and freeze him in place. Not only his body but also his mind, which seemed to stuck on inanities like  _ John, please don´t throw me out after what we have just done.  _ And more sadly  _ John, take care of me. _

 

John took a deep breath and without a glance at Sherlock staggered out of the room with a bottle in left hand. Door shut somewhere in the house.

 

Sherlock stood frozen for some time, but eventually his hand tired and it somehow roused him. 

Quietly he got dressed, disposed of all evidence of their encounter in hope John would drink himself into oblivion and left.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> You can see John and Mary´s living room here. http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/p04nd233  
> The chair they used in the story stands next to sofa.
> 
> If you feel like leaving kudos or making a comment, I´m most greatful.


End file.
